


Tinker, Doctor, Companion, Gizmo

by kelex



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1778323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is building yet another invention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tinker, Doctor, Companion, Gizmo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmoon/gifts).



> For tumblr user fadewithfury, because she asked for it and her artwork always inspires me. It's the least I could do.

_Clang._

_Ding-dong-whir!_

_Bzzzzt!_

"Ouch! That smarts! Have it, then!"

_Crash._

Rose couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. She'd been following the barrage of sounds through the TARDIS like a trail of breadcrumbs, and she had found what appeared to be the offspring of an interstellar junkyard mated to a mad scientist's laboratory.

Bits of this and pieces of that were strewn all over; lengths of rope and cables hung from the ceiling, mechanical knick-knacks and electronic devices were piled haphazardly here, there, and everywhere. And in the middle of the space was a heavy worktable that somehow managed to stay standing under the weight of all the gadgets.

The Doctor himself was perched on the table, cradling a vaguely square-like object in his lap while he quickly assembled a collection of glass fuses, a desktop bell, three metal cylinders and a long copper antenna.

That he didn't notice her immediately spoke volumes to Rose about the depths of his concentration, so she stood silently in the doorway. Feeling a bit like a voyeur, Rose drank in every detail she could absorb.

The Doctor's trench coat was tossed over a pile of round metal tins. His suit jacket was equally as discarded over his lap, forming a little valley for the square gizmo to rest in. His tie was also missing--no, she saw it an instant later, being used as a handle for the square thing. His shirt collar buttons were undone, and the flaps were open to expose the base of his throat and just a bit of his chest. 

His cuffs had been unbuttoned, and his sleeves rolled up midway, tucked into the bend of his elbow. She had never seen him like this before, and she couldn't stop staring. Rose had felt his arms through his jacket, knew quite well the quiet strength in them as well as the precision in his hands. But she'd never watched him building. Not like this, as an observer; usually she was helping, fetching and holding and sliding and screwing and occasionally chewing.

This was different. The Doctor's fingers lovingly cradled each piece, fingertips exploring the slick surface of each metal cylinder for imperfections. His thumb pressed against the base as he measured it with calipers, his index finger carefully bracing the other end. A metallic _thwump_ accompanied the attachment of each cylinder to some sort of coppery-looking base that Rose couldn't see clearly. The sonic came out to adhere each one carefully, then he put the screwdriver in his mouth while he moved to the next bit.

It was a motion she'd seen him do before, but it still made her shiver. The sight of his fingers, hands she knew as well as her own, being so delicate and careful in their motions, made her think of how he touched her. Just as delicately and carefully, but with a greater passion, a greater need to protect and feel. Clasped hands, hugs that lasted for an eternity, standing deliberately close, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip just so they weren't out of contact. Closing her eyes, she shut out that train of thought before it went any further and returned her attention to the Doctor.

He had finished with the last cylinder during her brief inattention. Now, the inverted dome of the desk bell rested in the palm of the Doctor's hand, and he delicately cupped the contours. His fingers closed around it, his other hand using the sonic screwdriver to make some minute adjustment to the tiny clapper inside.

Then, like an Old West gunfighter, he twirled the sonic between his fingers. The tool danced over each digit with the ease of long practice, then ended with a quick toss-and-catch before it got tucked back into his pocket. Those same talented fingers ran through the Doctor's hair, ruffling the spiky strands back and forth as he studied the bits in his lap. 

She couldn't help the inner laughter at that; she was well familiar with that action. It usually meant he had too many thought processes going at once, or was getting frustrated because all those thoughts were not going in the direction that he thought that they should. And his hair always suffered for it, being mussed and tossed about but still managing to look… good. Really good. Great, even. Again she had to tear her thoughts away from the Doctor's hair and turn it back to what he was doing. 

The long antenna was the last piece he attached. It seemed to fit perfectly, but as the Doctor was screwing it in, his elbow bumped the device in his lap. Rose made an aborted lunge forward, stopping before she disturbed the Doctor. He managed quite fine on his own, knee shifting to catch the device as he hunched forward to trap it against his torso. 

Once the antenna was installed, the Doctor was able to shift around and lift the black box. It was mostly hollow, as far as Rose could see, and the Doctor snapped the cylinder-bell-antenna contraption inside. Out came the sonic again, and it buzz-whirred several times. All at once, the box sprang to life, churning and flashing. 

The last bit to go on was an opaque cover, which the sonic screwdriver sealed shut. The Doctor smiled with glee as he caressed each nook and curve of the invention. His fingers stroked every corner, felt every button and corner, rubbed the tie-turned-shoulder-strap between his fingers. 

Slowly, Rose forced herself to exhale. Her lips pursed in a small O as she strove to stay silent, to keep the tremors out of her breathing. Seeing the Doctor idly stroke the TARDIS console had in no way prepared her for the tactile sensations he seemed to relish absolutely. She should have imagined it, being as how she'd even seen him _lick_ things she wouldn't have even hardly touched.

Then he stretched. Arms over his head at first, then full length in front of him. His fingers were laced together, and flexed first inwards, then outwards before dropping to his thighs. 

Remembering the feel of those fingers linked with hers, Rose let out an involuntary sigh.

Surprised by the quiet noise, the Doctor turned and caught Rose as she tried to duck back out. "Oh! How long--no, don't go, it's all right. Come on in, I just finished!" He held out his hand to Rose, wiggling his fingers in invitation.

Grinning sheepishly in answer to the Doctor's smile, Rose finally came completely into the room. Her hand found the Doctor's by instinct, by habit, and she studied their fingers together. Moved by a sudden urge, Rose kissed the back of the Doctor's hand, then each finger. When she was done, the Doctor brought her hand to his mouth. His breath was warm on her skin, and she could almost swear she felt the hairs on her arm stand up. The kiss to her hand was gentle, but then he let it fall between them as he moved to kiss her lips just as softly. 

Rose leaned into the kiss, hand sliding through the Doctor's hair to pull him even closer. 

"I have to tell you something," he breathed against her mouth, refusing to break the connection between them once it had been made. 

"Go on, then," Rose encouraged, words muffled as she nibbled at his lower lip.

"I knew you were watching the whole thing." His lips widened into a charming grin as he kissed her again. 

Rose laughed, slapping him on the shoulder as she hid her flushing cheeks against his neck. "Oh my God, I hate you so much right now!"

The End


End file.
